


Buried in the Cinders

by Sandentwins



Category: Taiyou no Ko Esteban | Les Mystérieuses Cités d'or | The Mysterious Cities of Gold
Genre: Angst, Dolls, Gen, Realization, Witch Hunts, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandentwins/pseuds/Sandentwins
Summary: “Have you ever been here?”“What? No, of course not... Why do you ask that?”That day, Esteban comes to find something he never even knew was lost.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Buried in the Cinders

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the references might make more sense if you've read [Walking on Moonlit Paths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013052), but you don't need to do so in order to understand.

The Golden Condor landed in a cloud of grassy dust, its wings carefully folding down as its legs straightened out. Esteban kept it steady until it was fully grounded, and only then let the engine power down. The glass pane above them slid upwards, letting in some fresh air after a long flight, and the bird's head lowered to let them outside. 

Pichu immediately fluttered out, happy to stretch his wings, and Tao followed shortly after. The sun was going down over the ocean nearby, and while most people would be tired, these two still seemed full of energy. Zia felt relieved to get some exercise, merrily sliding down the Condor's beak to meet the familiar touch of the grass below. It was a little dry, as was common in Inca lands, but it was only the more welcoming. Nothing better for one's soul than to gaze upon familiar sights, after all.

Esteban followed them shortly after, as the Condor finished powering down with the sun, and the three of them made their way down the hills. Below them, right by the coast, there was a little village with houses of stone and roofs of thatch. It looked rather charming from there, and with hope, the children could find a place to sleep tonight. It's been a long series of travels for them so far, and it would do them some good to rest at last.

“Do you think the people here are nice?”, Tao asked, as they could make out the first human silhouettes from the path.

“I'm sure they wouldn't _actively_ hurt us.”, Esteban shrugged. “Even though we're obviously not from here.”

“Worry not, I'll be your warrant as usual.”, Zia snickered. 

Indeed, it was of so much help that they had her to vouch for them as good people, especially since she spoke the languages of the land way better than the two of them. So all in all, Esteban wasn't too worried; but still, he tried not to catch anyone's attention as they entered town at last. 

Maybe he failed at his task, for the first whispers of the people came very soon to his ears. Obviously, their arrival couldn't draw no noise at all, but he'd have at least hoped it would take some more time. With a habit gained from twelve long years of living in Barcelona, he simply ignored that background noise, pretending he was but a normal kid on a normal errand, not something to be pointed at and whispered about. Some things never change, it would seem; at least, since he didn't understand most of these people's words, it had next to no impact on him. Maybe this place has never seen white men before, that's all. 

That's about when Zia's hand held onto his forearm. He rose a brow, looking at her with surprise, and she returned his gaze. 

“Have you ever been here?”, she asked.

Esteban's brows rose even higher. 

“What? No, of course not.”

He took a look around. This village wasn't one he knew or recognized, and he was pretty sure they've never flown around these parts. 

“Why do you ask that?”

She didn't answer, and simply looked away from these people, ignoring their whispers. Esteban thought nothing on it, bent on treating it as if it were nothing indeed. Maybe if he denied this background noise strongly enough, it would eventually disappear?

Tao turned towards some women carrying baskets, and asked in his most tentative accent if they knew of somewhere they could lodge at. But he didn't even get three words out that they turned around and ignored him, as if suddenly remembering they had something to do. He blinked in confusion, before trying again with someone else, who ignored him with a look of disdain. After a few similar attempts, he ended up giving up with a huff, returning to his friends. 

“They won't even talk to me. Have you got any more luck?”

Zia shrugged. She did try to approach some people, but when they saw what company she was in, they suddenly stopped caring and left her hanging. As for Esteban, he couldn't even get close enough to strike a conversation, for the people here behaved very strangely. 

“I think they don't like strangers.”, Zia sighed, sitting down on some rock. “But that's still rather strange.”

“Oh well.”, Esteban shrugged. “Guess we'll have to sleep in the Condor once again tonight.”

He was starting to get used to it, even if it was rather uncomfortable. At least the nights were warm enough here. For now, he simply sat down with his friends, and watched town life unfold. 

Most people here were farmer or fishermen, living frugally but in a tight-knit community. Every now and then, people would come across one another and strike a friendly conversation, as if everybody knew everyone in their neighborhood. There weren't many children around, and the few there were stayed behind their mothers like scared animals at all times. 

A lot of people wore simple clothing, the kind of which he's already seen before; but Esteban saw that many young women were clad in light blue dresses. He thought it was a coincidence, or some sort of fashion trend; but having been raised in a monastery, he knew how to recognize a uniform. 

“Who are they?”, he asked, more to himself than anyone. 

“I think I've heard someone speak of maidens.”, Zia replied. “There must be a temple somewhere here.”

“A temple? Hey, maybe we could try asking them for shelter tonight? They're usually accepting strangers.”

“I think you have them confused for one of your churches.”, Tao piped in. “That's not how it works here.”

“I mean, unless you have a better idea, we don't have a lot of options right now.”

The two held each other's gaze for a moment, before Tao shrugged and stood up. 

“We can try, but that does _not_ mean you're right.”

“Yeah, right.”

With a snarky smile, the three of them started to make their way up the hills. It wasn't easy to miss the large stone structure that towered over the village, around which more young girls in blue dresses were keeping busy. It was but a short walk, so even if they were denied at the door, they'd have at least tried. 

As he walked up the path of beaten dirt, Esteban started to feel strange. Some people were still looking at him and whispering, and he could easily block out that white noise, but it wasn't what was making his gut squirm. Zia stopped in her tracks, turning around to look at him.

“Esteban? Are you alright?”

He nodded, dismissing this feeling, Surely it was fatigue, or something equally unimportant. He looked up at the temple, which was getting closer already, and for a moment he thought that… He blinked, forgetting what he had tried to think about, and simply resumed walking. 

The wind started to pick up, bringing the first scents of rain. Already the maidens outside quickened up their pace, to finish whatever work they had and come back inside. The wind wasn't that strong, but enough so to make the hem of their dresses flap in its breaths, like the little blue wings of a bird taking off. And again, at the sight of their fluttering sleeves and skirts, Esteban stopped in his tracks, without he could know why. 

“Hey– come on, now.”, Tao pressed on. “Night's going to fall.”

He turned his head to see what Esteban was gazing at, and only saw a couple women bringing in some firewood they picked. He rose a brow, looking at his friend, nudging his shoulder to get a response out of him.

“Are you sleeping or what?”

Esteban seemed to wake up, perking up and looking at his friends. Has he...has he blanked out for a moment? Perhaps he did…

“Something's not right with you, it seems.”, Tao snickered. “Did you eat a strange plant on the way?”

“I'd knew if I had done that. No, it's...it's nothing.”

“Esteban loopy, rrk!”

The wind blew again, making his hair dance along. For some reason, he turned around to face it, see where it was coming from, and the feeling rose again. 

It definitely was strange. 

“Do you mind if...I return to the Condor for a moment? I, uh...have to check...something.”

Tao and Zia exchanged a glance, but the latter simply smiled. 

“Alright. We'll wait for you here. Don't get lost.”

“I won't. I promise.”

Rather awkwardly, he then went on his way, retracing his steps across town. And while he headed for the Condor at first, after a time of waling he shifted directions. The wind was still blowing, and for some reason, he felt like he _had_ to follow it to its source. So he walked south, that feeling in his gut growing even more. 

He didn't lie earlier. He never came here. He'd know if he ever had. But for a moment now...something about this place had felt strange to him. It was but a fleeting impression, an invisible detail in the corner of his mind, but it was there. He breathed in the air, and for a moment only the smells of the wild grounds and the sea came to him. But after several deep breaths, something else came to him.

The scent of wood ash. 

He followed it, followed the wind that was bringing it to him. Surely someone had lit a fire nearby, even though he couldn't see any light. The smell of burning wood always made him feel a little odd, and he figured it was the same for everyone else: after all, wasn't anyone afraid of their house burning down? Wasn't any sailor wary of flames on a ship, where a single mistake could make the powder barrels explode and the sails wither away into cinder? He's never said anything about it, for he figured it was common sense, but it became obvious over time he might be in the wrong. 

He finally got atop the hill, where the scent of ash was stronger. For a moment, nothing happened: there was no fire, no camp, nothing. But that's when he noticed something dark in the grass, and came closer to see it. 

It looked like a large stack of burnt wood and junk, laid in a square shape. His eyes scoured it for a moment, dubious, until he realized it was the remains of a house. 

His heart sank in his chest, realizing this was a living place that had burnt down. Looking at the scorching marks on what was left of the wooden logs, it's been quite a pyre; it didn't seem to be recent, however. Everything was cold, still moist from the recent rain, and most of the ash has been blown off by the wind. Some grass was starting to grow through the destroyed boards, and what little has been untouched by the fire had collapsed into rubble. It was almost unrecognizable now. 

For some reason, seeing it in such a state was making Esteban feel even weirder. Once the fire had been put out, the house has been abandoned; no one came to clear it up or repair it, or even to pick up any of the stuff that was laying around. Now that he thought about it, why was it up there, so far from the rest of the village? Who could have lived there, away from such a friendly community of people? Did no one come to help put out the flames? It made him almost sick only thinking of it, and the scent of ash kept nagging at him, almost to the point it made him uneasy. 

He stepped in, crossing the remains of the threshold, looking around the destroyed debris. Under burnt boards and beams, he could see the items laying around like bodies: a broken bed frame, an empty fire pit, several copper pots and pieces of broken glass. That last part made him pause for a moment, for Incas didn't know about glass. He carefully picked up some, wiping the soot off their surface, and mentally put them together into a bottle shape. Whoever lived here wasn't from around the corner; suddenly, the isolation, the different style of building made sense. The villagers' distaste for strangers made sense. 

Did...did the fire make sense as well? No, surely not. It was his imagination, come on. They wouldn't be _that_ cruel...right?

He kept searching. He moved beams, boards, stones around. His knees, hands and forearms soon ended up covered in soot and ash, but he ignored it, no matter how strange the scent was making him feel like. He didn't even stop to question how wrong it was to go through someone else's destroyed home like a beggar through discarded food, for the feeling that guided him was stronger than reason. There was _something_ about this place that felt odd, that felt weird, that felt…

No, it surely couldn't be. 

He found more. He found a beautiful necklace with a white stone that had lost its shine. He found a blanket whose patterns have since turned a discolored black. He found the remains of a dress, torn up and eaten to time. There has been a woman living here; looking at the copper pots and the bottles, he instantly thought she had been a witch, and that's why the people drove her out. A witch, in the middle of an Inca village? That made no sense…

The wind blew again, and a piece of fabric fluttered his way. Digging some more, he dragged out some sort of basket, layered with tarnished wool and the burnt remains of what would have looked like a beautiful blanket. Esteban took the piece of fabric in his hands, felt just how soft it was despite the years and the damage, and that's when he realized it was for a _cradle_. There used to be a child, sleeping in this very basket, grabbing onto this very blanket, in the arms of this very witch woman. 

His eyes started to sting, and he rubbed them with the back of his hand, careful not to put any soot in his eye. Sitting here, in the middle of all the remains of this burnt life, this destroyed household, squeezed painfully at his heart. How...how could it possibly have been? If that fire had been no accident, as he suspected, did that mean that this woman and her child…?

A speckle of color in the grays caught his attention. He did not want to look any further into this, he didn't want to make that feeling linger, but his hand moved on its own. Still holding the piece of blanket against his chest, he reached out and pulled out whatever that red thing was; his hand met something solid but light, and he had a very bad feeling, but proceeded anyway. When he saw it had a human shape, his heart skipped a beat; but it luckily wasn't a baby's remains. 

It was a doll. A little wooden doll, so small he could hold it in one hand. Its body was carved from dark wood, and its hair had either been plucked out by birds or molten away by flames. Its red dress still held on, and the chipped paint of its face looked back at him with a smile that was no longer here. It was likely the baby's toy, a toy made with love and lots of care, and seeing it broke his heart even further. He took the hem of his shirt and attempted to wipe the soot off its body and clothes, little by little revealing the colored patterns of its minuscule dress. 

Under the ashen gray, a bit of gold appeared. Golden thread, embroidered in a pattern he didn't recognize until a moment later. His body suddenly felt cold, and he did _not_ want to continue, he wanted to give up on revealing what was underneath the grime, he wanted to throw this toy away and run out of here– but the feeling came back, and with it the sensations that he recalled, the ones that the everlasting scent of ash put in his mind, the same ones he felt when he saw these blue dresses flap like birds, and he continued, moved by curiosity. A morbid kind of curiosity, that he tried to stop, but it was impossible; for he wanted to know. He _had_ to know, he was too deep in to go back now, and he needed to know if his doubts were true. 

It took a long time of wiping off dust and ash, of trying to make up the colors of the fabric after so much time. But when he was finally done, when he could finally see it in its entirety, Esteban's hands were shaking so much that he dropped the doll in shock. 

Its dress was bearing the exact same pattern as that of his medallion. 

That's when everything clicked, and Esteban realized with a shiver that indeed, _he's already been here._


End file.
